


Don't Hide Yourself, Stand Up, Keep Your Head High

by AteanaLenn



Series: The (probably) forever WIPs [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: After Hogwarts / Harry is an adult, Alternate Universe - No War, Don’t copy to another site, F/M, M/M, Magical Divorce, Not Canon Compliant, Wixen Politics, probably a forever WIP, wixen world
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-17 22:20:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21650689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AteanaLenn/pseuds/AteanaLenn
Summary: The British Wixen world lived in peace, and yet, Harry's world kept shrinking a bit more everyday. He was twenty-seven and had grown up hearing about "those dark bastards, always trying to restrict muggle and muggle-born rights", but... Harry would have liked to be able to use his magic whenever he felt like it too, especially at home. But Lily didn't like the greatness of the Potter Manor and James hadn't found anything bad about living in the cottage in the muggles-wixes mixed village of Godric's Hollow. Politics, however, were shifting, and old Lords and Ladies were stepping down and letting the new generations take charge of the Family Magics, and maybe Dumbledore's new opponent in the Wixengamot, Lord Gaunt, might be able to get things moving? Harry wondered and observed.
Relationships: Euphemia Potter/Fleamont Potter, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter (divorced)
Series: The (probably) forever WIPs [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/638906
Comments: 29
Kudos: 205





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I've been writing a lot recently and decided to throw it all at you :) Three things though:  
> • I love to start stories, but whenever my interest peters out / something else catches my attention, I move on. I've stopped hitting myself for leaving things to wither, so this is a WIP and there may or may not be more published. So far, I have a bit over 10k to post. Therefore, read at your own risk. It's tagged and added to my WIP series, you've been warned.  
> • second, I hate editing lol. So I've thrown this thing at Grammarly once and called it ready.  
> • and last: I hate using "Wizards and witches". First, it's a pain to write, sounds terrible, and we always end up defaulting to "wizard-something". Case in point: HP - Wizards Unite. Therefore I'm a pro- Wix/Wixen/Wixes use fan. For more info, see [Fanlore](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Wix) or [this tumblr post](https://themonsterblogofmonsters.tumblr.com/post/83083297985/what-is-a-wix).
> 
> That said, I hope you enjoy this idea!
> 
> I google-imaged "don't hide quote", so title comes from a quote by Joe Mari Fadrigalan apparently: "Don't hide yourself, stand up, keep your head high, and show them what you got!"
> 
> _NOTE: Do not reproduce this work in any form on any site or app, do not repost my works without my express permission, don’t copy to another site._  
>  If you are reading this anywhere but archiveofourown.org, you are reading a stolen copy.

"Did you see the proposal?"

"What proposal?"

"James! The one Gaunt forwarded to be debated at the next Wixengamot!"

"Oh, that." James Potter shrugged. "You know I don't like that stuff."

Ensconced in the comfiest armchair of the Potter cottage, right next to the fire crackling in the earth, with a cup of tea still steaming next to a plate of shortbread on a small side table, Harry listened intently, while staring at his book and turning a page here and there. At twenty-seven, he'd perfected the art of listening "at the door" while looking busy. Not that James paid him much attention anyway. James Potter hadn't been too pleased to find out that his son was bookish and really not interested in pranking and rough play. Being sorted in Ravenclaw had sealed the deal and James had slowly lost any interest, focusing back on Quidditch and his friends. Lily Potter was just as disenchanted with her marriage, as James turned out to be still as childish as he was in Hogwarts, though he did outgrow his bullying years. The Potter name and money were good for opening doors for her as she focused on her research, at least.

Harry wasn't sure if they'd actually discussed the whole one-child-is-good-enough, or if they'd just pointedly not mentioned it, once past the starry years of I-have-a-baby! James got his heir and she'd realized that caring for a child almost by herself severely curtailed her freedom. They'd been very young when they'd had Harry and he knew, from listening in on James and his friends, and snooping in his mother's diary, that they'd both somewhat regretted jumping into marriage and nappies so fast.

Consequently, Harry had grown with a lot of freedom himself. And the possibility to research all he wished and grow his own opinion about things. Opinions which, unfortunately, differed a lot from James'. It made speaking his mind in the cottage a mine-field and an uncomfortable stay. Still, Christmas was nearing and he'd had to come home for the Potter reunion at his grandfather's estate.

"Seriously, James?! You know that Fleamont is going to pass on the Potter Lordship someday soon, he's already mentioned a few times that he's growing tired. How do you think that you'll fare in the Wixengamot if you don't even know what they're talking about?"

"Like _you_ pay attention!"

"Yeah, well, it's not like _I'm_ the one who's going to become Lord, am I?" Sirius spat.

James frowned. "Why not? You're the eldest."

"And I don't have any of the same opinions as Arcturus, you know that. Plus I made a point at Hogwarts and after to do everything opposite to what a Black would do. The point has been driven to me that I have made myself so _un-Black_ that there's absolutely no reason to give me the Black leadership."

"That's bullshit. Who told you that?"

"Orion."

"Your _father_?! And who's going to become Lord, not Orion certainly, he's barely any younger than Arcturus."

"Regulus."

"That little shit?!"

"That little shit who's learned the family history and learned about the Wixengamot and, has it has been made clear to me, cares about the family. _I_ did not care for the family, so there's no reason for me to get the Lordship."

"That bullshit."

Sirius sighed, his shoulders drooping. "No, it's really not. They're right. I know nothing about the Wixengamot, they would all walk over me from the first session on. And I did make a point to scorn everything about the Black history. Why would Arcturus give me the rein when he has other possibilities. That makes no sense."

"Well, I still think that it's bullshit. I mean, I don't like Wixengamot stuff either, but I'm still the heir."

Harry carefully didn't snort. Not that he didn't agree with Sirius. Sirius was a nice guy, but certainly nowhere near ready to step in politics. He was the kind of man who liked to rant with his friends about how the politicians were all hacks who cared nothing about anything but their own Houses. But for all their ranting, none of James' friends, or indeed, neither James, took any step to learn about politics, learn about their government, and attempt to change it. James and Sirius were aurors, showing some ambition but nowhere near savvy enough to rise up the ladder. Remus, as a werewolf, had many fewer possibilities and was happy to spend his life with his head down and making no waves, too grateful for Lily's offer to be her—paid—research assistant. He was good at it, so more power for them, but no help for politics. Peter... Well, Harry did not have a great opinion of the man, so he might be overly harsh in his judgment, but Peter was basically the Ron Weasley of James’ generation. Just enough brain to be included in the group, but too lazy to learn or do anything by himself. He expected to be able to keep riding James Potter's coattails, and as Ron had discovered after Hogwarts, he ended up crashing and burning on the altar of zero skill, zero charisma, and zero personal money.

James’ own statement— _I'm still the heir_ —was something that Harry regularly worried about though. James _was_ slated to take over the Potter House, but as he'd confessed himself, he cared little for anything but his own comfort and his little life, knew nothing about leading the House, and more importantly, had vastly different belief from Harry's.

Harry sighed again and forced himself to concentrate on his book. There wasn't anything that he could do about this, and this book was a rather interesting fantasy fiction. Wixen writers may have some weird ideas about how magic worked—or could have worked, in another dimension—but it did make for very entertaining reads, most of the time. And the wide spaces described, with quests for magical powers/items through untouched lands sounded like a dream, for a man who'd grown up with the repeated admonition of "careful with your wand/spells, don't let the neighbors see you!" or "Harry, bring your broom down before the muggles see you!" Half muggle-half magical villages where the worst torture and he couldn't even sneak out to play at a friends because the only one he knew of with enough space to play actual Quidditch—and who wouldn't make James' hair curl—were the Weasleys and there was no chance that Harry would put himself through THAT, between Ron-the-hanger-on and Ginny-the-fangirl-who-scribbles-Ginny-Potter-everywhere.

—

"Welcome to Potter Manor," Euphemia Potter greeted the small group with a nod.

"Good afternoon, grandmother," Harry greeted back, "and happy Yule."

There was an exasperated intake of breath behind him, as his mother always did when Harry talked about the pagan wixen celebrations instead of referring to the Dumbledore approved-and-pushed-for "Christmas", among others.

Harry couldn't care less about her opinion on that point, and going by how Euphemia's lips had pinched for a second before she smoothed over her reaction, the Lady Potter was of the same opinion.

"Happy Yule to you too, Hardwin," Euphemia answered with a pleased smile, ignoring her son's automatic protest. "Hardwin" was a family name that James would rather see dead and buried, and he'd certainly done his best to push everyone to call his son "Harry" instead. "Your grandfather is in his office, you can go ahead and present yourself," she said instead.

Harry nodded his thanks and made his way deep in the manor after brushing his lips over her cheek.

—

Dinner was tense, as it always happened when Fleamont Potter spent time around his son. While James took his presence in the manor as his due, as he did for everything else, Harry was well aware that Fleamont had grown rather disenchanted with his son through James' Hogwarts years and the multiple accusations of bullying and sabotage for which Fleamont had received _many_ angry letters from various wixen families, some of which had made things overly difficult for Fleamont in the Wixengamot. Not that James ever really paid attention nor cared. James' subsequent lack of interest in the leading of their House hadn't helped matters.

But, as James had told Sirius a few days ago, he was still the heir.

Harry took a fortifying breath and did NOT roll his eyes when Lily explained how her current project would show that the focus on "ley lines" was an absurd idea and magic was really not condensed on specific points, no matter what generations of wixen said.

While Harry appreciated the will to go against "traditions" when those were just thinly veiled ways to keep the status quo steady and to keep the sheeple under control, he was well aware that Lily's drive came from the need to show how backward the wixen world was, not to actually make things better. He couldn't understand why she felt the need to strip all the magic from their magical realm. Possibly a reaction to the way her sister had abandoned her behind, or her need for things to be logical and ordered, after growing up for ten years in the muggle world? Harry _had_ noticed that muggle-raised children had a real problem with getting used to intuitive and creative thinking.

"Yes, I'm sure that the research is fascinating," Fleamont said as soon as he could catch two seconds of silence as Lily took a breath. "The hour grows late," he stood up as the elves cleared the table. Lily, predictably, frowned at the display. Not for the first time, Harry almost wished that Hermione had been her daughter. They had much in common. "Your rooms are prepared as usual, you must be tired."

Euphemia gave an almost bow to her son and daughter-in-law, smiling as she always did to them, then followed her husband.

Harry knew that smile had disappeared as soon as she'd been out of view. The letters from Hogwarts had been bad enough, and while Euphemia had no problem with James bringing a muggle-raised child in the family, she wasn't happy about Lily's almost compulsive need to disparage the wixen culture. Not that she'd show it.

"I'll turn in too." Harry nodded at his parents, exchanged a murmured goodnight, then made his way to his usual room. On the other side of the manor, near the library, one guest room had been redecorated to fit Harry's taste, as he spent several months at a time in the Potter manor, between two trips to the continent. Lily still wasn't happy about Harry's preference for the manor over the perfectly nice cottage, but he'd manage to placate her so far with explaining that he was there for the library. Of course, James' attention wandered as soon as books were mentioned.

"Master Harry, master Fleamont be wanting to see master Harry in his office," Brownstone announced, popping in a corner of Harry's room.

"Now?"

"Yes, master Harry."

"Very well," Harry said, shrugging his robes back on. "Tell him I'll be there momentarily."

—

Harry made his way around the manor, avoiding his parents' wing and slipped inside Fleamont's office.

"Grandfather, you asked for me?"

"Yes, Hardwin, come in, close the door."

Harry felt the wards go up as soon as the latch locked in and his eyebrows raised up before he could smooth his expression.

"Take a seat."

The fire was burning merrily in the crate, the closed gate showing that the floo was locked up. There were two conformable armchairs set near the fire, a small table between them. Fleamont lowered himself in the armchair closest to the fire, giving a small sigh of relief as the heat seeped in his body, and tapped once on the table. A tea set appeared immediately, the aroma of chamomile and lavender rising from the hot water.

Harry busied himself with spreading a throw blanket over the man's legs, then another on himself, then nibbling quietly on a mint biscuit.

"I'm growing old," Fleamont eventually murmured.

"Old but still kicking," Harry reminded him. But in truth, Fleamont—and Euphemia— _were_ growing old. They'd had James late in life, through a ritual of some sort, Harry suspected, in order to ensure that their line would live on, despite the epidemic which had claimed the lives of over half of their House, about five decades ago. Even if wixen on a whole lived long lives, certainly longer than muggles, Fleamont had still reached an age where he'd probably like to be able to sit back and relax without worries.

"Yes, still kicking. But butting heads with that overbearing idiot Dumbledore at the Wixengamot is exhausting," Fleamont confessed, sagging back in his seat, eyes closed.

"But now there's Lord Gaunt to take up the slack," Harry murmured. Even two wings away from James' room, Harry couldn't help but be quiet. Some opinions would bring him more trouble than necessary if voiced in James'—or Lily's—presence.

"Yes." Fleamont sat up, grabbed his cup and took a sip, staring thoughtfully at Harry. "But Lord Gaunt cannot fight Dumbledore's muggle-focused bills by himself."

"He's hardly by himself," Harry noted, "not with the Malfoy, Nott, and Greengrass families at his back, among others. And I heard that Regulus Black is going to get the Black Lordship. Arcturus might have been kept away from the Wixengamot a lot these last months because of his failing health, but I know that Regulus has learned how to deal with the Wixengamot and researched the past and present bills. He'll be ready when he has to step up."

"Those families will be helpful to Gaunt's goals and have the power to back his play, but they are all too deep in his camp. The divide in the Wixengamot will only grow and people who might agree with his bills and opinions might vote contrarily just because of his backers." Fleamont explained, frowning down at the teapot. He looked up and glanced at Harry from the corner of his eye. "Then again, Regulus Black isn't the only youngster who's been learning the ins and outs of the Wixengamot, is he..."

Harry looked up sharply, cup stopped halfway to his lips. "Grandfather?"

Fleamont nodded as if Harry had answered some important question. "I am not blind, Harry, and I am not stupid. We both know that if James gets the lordship, this House's political power will probably be all lost well before you get any chance of taking over the leadership. As it happens, Arcturus Black is setting a useful precedent for me."

"You're— giving me the Potter lordship." Harry stumbled over his words, his cup rattling in the saucer as he forced his shaking hands to let it go rather than let it fall to the floor.

"Yes."

"I'm not even thirty! J _ames_ isn't even fifty." Fifty, which by wixen standards wasn't even remotely middle-aged. Thirty was barely out of diapers, as far as adults considered things.

"And at his age James is still nothing more than an overgrown child, while you at twenty-seven are already aware of the necessities of leading our House, the intricacies of the Wixengamot, _and_ the necessity to get ourselves further separated from the muggle world, before they stumble upon us and we end up in one of their laboratories. Or before they successfully back us up out of any space left. I know you are aware of how restrictive our movements have grown."

"Well, it's hard to not notice, when just going flying is such a risk," Harry muttered bitterly.

"And that is exactly why I want you in the Wixengamot. Most of those old fossils have forgotten what it means to have the freedom to live as we wished, they haven't experienced the way the wixen world shrinks a bit more every day. They have their manor and their lands, and they throw out words of anger against the muggle's advancement, but it's all empty words, tricks to get people to back them up. They don't actually have the experience to realize how wrong things are growing. Not even—or maybe especially—Dumbledore, from his tower up in his warded castle."

"Well, we also are shut away in our manor and lands," Harry pointed out with a wry smile.

"But how many of them are settled near a mixed village? We might be in our manor, Harry, but I do go out and exchange words with my fellow wixen in the market among other things, and it pains me to see those children being shushed and repressed several times when they go out, out of fear that they'll show magic to the muggles. Tell me, Harry, how long do you think we can keep shushing and telling our children to “hide their magic, not use it, be wary”, before they simply stop using it and take the path of least resistance, and integrate with the muggle world?"

Harry grimaced. Yes, that was one of his worries too. Those who lived among muggles, or near them, were conditioning their children to see their magic as something to hide and not use, and it would bite them in the ass at some point.

The tea set disappeared as Fleamont put his cup down one last time, leaving behind only a couple small biscuits each.

"But there is no need to keep harping on this. You know it, I know it, and if James would rather keep his head in the sand, then so be it. Euphemia and I have planned a ball for the day before Yule. I'll announce the transfer of the Potter leadership on that day. We'll go together to the first Wixengamot after the new year."

"James isn't going to like that."

"James is going to keep his mouth shut if he wants to keep his spending money. I can and _will_ cut him off the main accounts if he makes a fuss. I would like to see how he'd behave, once he has only his own salary to fund his extravagant spending and the lifestyle he is used. I do think that he'd have to cut back on the number of expensive drinks, for one," Fleamont spat with rather surprisingly glee.

Harry watched, eyebrows raised to his hairline. He knew that James had lost most of his parents' favor years ago, but still. He hadn't realized that it was that bad.

Then again, he probably should have. After all, Fleamont had never hidden his disdain for Dumbledore and James was firmly in the headmaster's pocket.

Thinking back, Harry wasn't so surprised that James was being passed over for the leadership of their House, in the end, though the fact that a _twenty-seven years old_ would gain the lordship still boggled the mind. Even Regulus Black, who was due to get the Lordship over the oldest Heir, was well in his forties too. If Harry remembered right, Regulus was only a year or two younger than Sirius and Sirius was James' age.

"It is late," Fleamont pushed himself up, wincing a bit as he stretched his bad arm. He'd caught a curse to his left arm which had shattered his elbow a few decades ago and Harry knew that it still bothered him sometimes.

"Yes. Goodnight, Grandfather."

"Goodnight, Hardwin."

—


	2. Chapter 2

In an attempt to keep his own angst and stress at a low level—however successful that turned out—Harry buried himself in the library for the rest of the week. Tellingly, Euphemia turned down his help in the preparation of the upcoming ball, as he'd usually do, advising him to take the time off and spend some quality time in the library instead. Euphemia went and bullied Lily into helping her, taking an almost seemingly pleasure into getting the researcher to help with things that Lily considered frivolous and stupid. Watching Lily bite her lips and grow more irate every day was entertaining, though Harry would never speak that thought aloud. Lily was a stereotypical red-head in that way that she took an offense to her person very strongly and held onto the grudge forever. Exhibit one, Severus Snape. Thought Snape was also a case of "she needed someone to give her information about the wixen world and conveniently, guess who was available". She'd dropped him fast enough at the first excuse she got, then latched onto James as her next stepstone.

Harry could only guess that her explosive temper tipped the balance for Gryffindor—and probably her muggle background—because she would otherwise have made a great Slytherin.

The Potter's manor library was usually a treasure trove of information, and Harry _had_ spent months holed up in the manor, learning as much information as he could with Fleamont and Euphemia's indulgent welcome.

Because as much as James and Lily were typical Gryffindors, Harry was a rather typical Ravenclaw of his own, he thought with a smile. Then he sighed and went back to his book. He'd been reviewing Wixengamot protocols over again, then moved on to making sure that he was up to date about the various subjects discussed recently, and especially Lord Gaunt's.

The man's proposal was two-fold. As the divide between muggle-raised children and wixen-raised grew larger every year, while simultaneously pushing wixen-raised education away so the muggle-raised could "have an easier time adapting"—see bloody _Christmas_ being celebrated at Hogwarts—Lord Gaunt argued that the wixen needed to stop bickering and act.

Hopefully, teaching wixen customs to the children would help. Harry had heard whispers again about opening a primary school. That one was always such a problem, with people wanting the school close to their homes, finding a free space for the school well enough away from the muggles, and trying to decide how they could to bring the muggle-raised at the school without it being a problem. So far, the primary school idea kept being shut down because the pro-muggle people won't accept a wixen-raised children only school and everyone else knows what a bad idea it is to teach the children about magic and then send them home with the admonishment to absolutely not use said magic. Of course, chances are that small children wouldn't be able to resist.

—

"Your attention please!"

The large ballroom grew silent as the crowd turned around. Fleamont stood on the podium reserved for the small orchestra, watching his guests a moment.

From his spot at the bottom of the podium's stairs, Harry watched James, Lily, and James' friends eventually falling quiet too. James rolling his eyes at his father's grandstanding, before whispering in Sirius' ear again.

"As you all know, I am not growing younger." A wave of interest rippled through the crowd, as they realized that Fleamont wasn't just giving a toast.

"The wixen world grows smaller every year and our traditions are lost a bit more every day. I believe that we must not forget our past, but the present and future are what matters today. With this in mind, I am proud to announce to you that the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter will greet today a new Lord at its helm. Let me introduce to you my grandson, Lord Hardwin James Potter, Earl of Carrick!"

The crowd clapped while Harry climbed the few steps and joined Fleamont and Euphemia. "Thank you." He bowed lightly, making sure to keep an approachable smile but an otherwise bland expression.

From the corner of his eyes, Harry caught sight of James' dumbfounded expression. He turned away, not in a hurry to get to that confrontation, and followed his grandparents back on the ground to mingle and receive the—somewhat astonished—congratulations. Fleamont's move was going to make the wixen high society gossip for months to come.

—

James, as Harry had expected, did not have the restraint to wait until the guests had left to approach his father. To his credit, Sirius had attempted to keep him away, but James only seemed to grow more irritated with each Lord greeting Harry as a peer.

"Father," James growled, as he shouldered his way near Fleamont.

"Later, James," Fleamont tried.

But James wasn't going to let himself get swept away, as had already happened once today.

Harry watched them, then decided that this was between the two of them. He might be Lord Potter, but Fleamont was still James' father and the one to have taken the decision. "Oh, I'm sorry to have kept you from the buffet," Harry exclaimed at his current companion, interrupting their more or less blatant eavesdropping, "why don't we move that way." The guests let themselves be led away from the brewing conflict looking rather disappointed.

"—I'm your heir!"

"Obviously not, Hardwin is. But you never cared about the Lordship, did you, except to make sure that there was still money coming for your travels," Fleamont spat back, not quite silently enough.

Harry winced, then shrugged at the man next to him who'd raised an eyebrow at his reaction. James was hot-headed, and his relationship with Lily and Sirius, two other hot-heads hadn't helped, but to be honest, Fleamont wasn't much better. He certainly never hesitated to detail someone's failings even in a public company.

"Congratulations, Lord Potter," Henry Diggory said, artfully ignoring the heated argument at the other end of the room. Then again, as a contemporary to Fleamont, Diggory must know about the Potter's behavior.

"Thank you. It was a surprise decision, but I hope that I'll bring honor and prosperity to my House," Harry answered.

—

"Welcome to the Wixengamot, Lord Potter."

Harry gave a small bow to Lord Lucius Malfoy and answered his thanks almost on automatic, as he'd been doing for almost an hour now. He and Fleamont had arrived early, expecting the hubbub that would be the Ministry, but it was almost worse than he'd imagined. People watched him all the time, speculating and waiting to see which side the coin would fall.

Clad in heavy robes, dark green with three dark blue strips and one dark orange one running along the edges, the ancestral colors of the Earldom of Carrick made him look like a Slytherin with Ravenclaw tendencies instead of the reverse. Though if the orange stood for Gryffindor and is affiliation to the House through James, it would almost make sense. Too bad the main color was dark green and not dark blue. Though James' eternal horror at wearing Slytherin colors was always fun.

Some of the Lords were starting to drift toward the Wixengamot chamber. Harry listened from one ear as that blowhard Prewett bored Fleamont to tears, following obediently their slow steps. Harry might be the Lord now, but he still needed to get his place in their eyes.

The dark green of his dress robes sometimes glinted under the dim lights of the antechamber, and Harry found himself wondering about that, once again. Many Houses had been established around the same time as Hogwarts when the wixes began organizing themselves and making their own spaces. For his forefather to have chosen _dark green_ as their main color, during the time when green was especially associated with Salazar Slytherin... Plus the use of two other Founders colors, it brought questions to the mind. Fleamont had already hinted that Harry would inherit some old artifacts of importance, once his Lordship had been recognized by his peers.

Harry _couldn't wait_.

"Take your seats, Lords and Ladies."

Euphemia deftly moved through the crowd, abandoning her chat with Lady Abbott to climb up the seats to the Potter seat. Around them, the room slowly filled up.

"First today, we welcome two new lords among us. Lord Regulus Arcturus Black, rise please."

The House of Black had seniority over the Potters, by barely a few decades, so Regulus went first. Secretly grateful, Harry sat back and watched the proceeding with interest.

Regulus' oath was short. A promise to upheld the values of the Wixengamot and work with the other Lords and Ladies in order to bring the best for the House of Black, those under the helm of the House of Black, and lastly, for the betterment of the wixen world. The oath settled under Regulus' skin and he sat back, his political mask wavering barely enough for those with quick eyes to see his relief.

"Lord Hardwin James Potter, please rise."

Harry inhaled discreetly and rose.

"Your oath, Lord Potter."

"I, Lord Hardwin James Potter, Earl of Carrick, so swear..."

—

"Congratulations on your inheritance, Lord Potter."

A few steps from the group formed around Fleamont, separated from the coalition of Dumbledore's party, stood Lord Gaunt. Harry blinked stupidly, thrown by the man's beauty.

"Thank you," he managed to get out after a too-long breath, flushing in shame at his own uncouth reaction.

Thankfully, Lord Gaunt merely smirked at him, leaving Harry feeling like he was back to teenagehood.

"I know the first seance of the year is never very interesting, but I hope that you are pleased with your status now."

"Very much. I confess that it was as much a surprise to me as to everyone else," Harry found himself saying before he could stop the words, "but I am pleased."

Lord Gaunt stared a moment, then nodded. "I cannot help but notice that you haven't been kowtowing in the Headmaster Dumbledore's path."

Harry carefully kept his face blank and his eyes on the Earl of Slytherin. "Haven't I?" he asked, then turned away. "I guess that I'll see you at the next regular meeting on the 15th?"

"Of course."

Harry stepped away, slipping through the crowd and making his way back to Fleamont's side. He felt Lord Gaunt's gaze on his back all the way.

—

"What are you going to vote?"

"Father?"

Harry looked up from his book, raising an eyebrow at James.

"And don't call me "father" like that, you know that I hate that."

"Sorry," Harry shrugged. "I've been hearing that a lot recently, I guess it stuck." Harry eyed the full wixen robes that James was wearing stiffly, then looked up at him. "You asked something?"

"I said, what are you going to vote?"

"At the Wixengamot?"

"Where else?! Of course, at the Wixengamot!"

"Why do you care? You never paid attention to politics."

"I want to know."

"Well, you'll have to do without." Harry wasn't sure what game James was playing, but he wasn't going to give him any possibility to rant at Harry. Of course, he'd get the ranting anyway after the 15th's meeting.

"I'm your father, answer me!"

Suddenly furious, Harry threw himself out of his armchair and crowded into James's personal space. "And I'm your _Lord_! You will speak to me on another tone!" he spat viciously. The weight of the Family Magic almost burned against his shoulder-blades, enraged that one of their House dared to question their Lord.

James went so white so fast that Harry almost expected him to faint right there in the library. "I—" he stumbled over his words, then stumbled over his feet, and eventually just turned tail and skipped out of the room at speed.

His magic was buzzing against his skin and he could feel his hair puffed up like a lion's mane. Harry inhaled slowly, then again, automatically settling into a meditation rhythm. The Family Magic linked to his magical core slowly settled too.

"I had been wondering when James would push at you. Fleamont bet on right before the Wixengamot meeting. I won the bet." Euphemia glided into the room and brushed a gentle hand over Harry's hair. "That boy never really understood how strong Family Magic can be, to my eternal shame. I wish I could send my past self a sternly worded letter about the best way to raise a child and especially an heir." Euphemia looked aside, mouth pulled down into a frown.

"And it might have just made things worse. Look at Sirius Black. He was raised as the perfect little pure-blood and couldn't turn his back on his family fast enough."

"Well, I do suspect that Walburga, that old harpy, had a lot to do with that. I wouldn't be surprised to learn that he's been abused as he grew up, the poor boy."

Harry nodded, conceding the point.

"How are you doing, Hardwin?"

Harry exhaled again, fidgeting with his wand. "Like I should punish him to teach him his proper place."

Euphemia snorted. "I suppose there's a reason why ascending Lords and Ladies are traditionally kept into solitude for the first couple of months. I'm afraid that Fleamont did you no favor, passing the Family Magic on to you so close to the next Wixengamot meetings."

"I can maintain."

"Not if you keep hiding out in the library. You need to connect with the rest of the family members, or you'll still be on edge by the time the Wixengamot meeting date arrives. That has the potential to be disastrous."

Harry conceded the point with ill grace. As much as he hadn't had a lot of contact with his parents in the last years, nor thought much of the way they went through life, it still felt exceedingly weird to be aware of his literal superiority in the pool of the Family Magic.

"Come, let's have a cup of tea."

—

"You must touch your magic with as many members of the family as you can reach. Learn the flavor of their magic and know who are your people."

They sat on the patio, the air around them glittering with the weather-controlling wards. A neat circle of grass stood out around the pergola, looking like a green island in a sea of pure white snow. January in Scotland was nothing to sneeze at.

"At least there aren't that many of us left," Harry muttered. His magical core prodded at his... heart, or soul, or something, pushing him to reach out to the member of his House.

Lily and James stepped out of the manor and joined the group at the table. "My apologies for the wait," Lily murmured as the elves served them all a cup of tea and a few biscuits.

Since the realization that Family Magic was an actual sentient being in old Houses, Harry had the suspicion that Lily was starting to wonder if she hadn't bitten more than she could chew, by binding herself to the House of Potter. Access to materials and funds for her research or not, it was still probably a difficult matter to accept for one raised by muggles. Another point in favor of actually _teaching_ the muggle-raised what they were stepping into, Harry thought.

"It's fine," he answered her when his magic prodded him sharply. Right, _he_ was the Lord of the House of Potter, not Fleamont, not anymore.

Lily sharply glanced at her son at his reply, then looked back down at her cup.

Harry sighed and roughly rubbed a hand through his hair. At least, Euphemia wouldn't be clucking at him about the state of his hairstyle, he thought with a smile, with the Potter hair curse being what it was.

"I need to welcome you in the Family again," Harry blurted out.

James jerked, almost upending his cup over his own lap, then glared at Harry. " _I_ am _already_ welcome in the Family," he spat, "I was well before you."

"And if you'd learned your lessons, instead of rolling your eyes at me," Fleamont rebuked immediately, "you'd have known that a new Lord always needs to reconnect with the Family members under his care and to learn the taste of their magic. You'd have also known better than to anger him so soon after him taking up the title!"

"That title should have been mine!"

"What for? You cared nothing for the responsibilities connected to the title!"

"I'm your son, I should have been the Heir!"

"The Heir is the person who would lead our House with dedication and deft maneuvering, in order to further our goals. When did you show any dedication to anything but to entertain yourself?!"

"You should have to—"

" _Enough_!"

Harry's hand slapped on the table and a wave of stinging Potter magic rushed through them all, pushing at them and prodding everyone but Harry back into their seat. This was the reason why so few found the will to disobey their patriarch or matriarch, and why most children in a House ended up following their parents' footsteps in their Hogwarts Houses. Standing up against the Family Magic, unless the Lord or Lady let their hold slacken, was a difficult matter. Not impossible, but difficult and extremely uncomfortable.

The birds' songs had fallen silent and the heavy weight of the winter snow muted all sounds around the pergola. None of the Potters spoke as Harry stepped away from the table and out of the wards' area, burying his feet in the snow almost up to his knees.

His magical core surged through his body, angry all over again at James' willful attacks. As had become the norm this week, Harry settled his breath in a meditating pattern, forcing himself to relax and let the anger wash away. A Lord or Lady who let his magic led him around would be nothing but a tyrant and Harry had no intention to become the next Dark Lord. He had a lot more control than that.

"Will you never learn, _son_ ," Harry heard Fleamont growl behind him.

"If he hadn't been dark—"

"Oh by Zir's name, you stupid boy! There is nothing _dark_ in your son, this is only magic's will! No one, not even the most muggle-loving fool, would react differently under the weight of a Family Magic as old and involved as ours. You keep challenging him and the magic feels the need to _remind you of your place,_ every time. This is not about Hardwin, it's about the fact that you keep disrespecting your Lord and the magic of the Potter House will _not_ let you get away with it! So sit down and think before you speak. You're making the take-over harder on Hardwin that it ever needed to be and that's all on you, James, every day I grow more ashamed of your carelessness. I wish that I had realized that I was raising such a selfish boy," Fleamont finished in a whisper.

Silence fell over the group and Harry finally managed to relax his shoulders.

—


	3. Chapter 3

Eventually, he turned around and sat back at his seat.

James was staring sullenly at the table, looking more humiliated than chastened and Lily sat rigidly in her seat, a look of deep unease on her face.

Harry rubbed a hand over his face, slumping in his seat. It wasn't like he hadn't seen that one coming. Lily had spent the last two decades studying magic in order to prove that worshiping Zir was a senseless custom and attempting to unravel the secrets of rituals and magics, to show that those who had recently come into their magic had as much magical history as anyone else. The whole "sentient Family Magics of the House of Potter being angry at James" was basically her nightmare made life and the proof that all her theories were wrong and she'd merely been placated by the Ladies and Lords surrounding her all these years.

He couldn't care less. "Placating her" had done more damage to their world than he liked to think about. Even though she hadn't brought conclusive evidence to her theories, just having a muggle-raised, especially one in Noble House, contest aloud the wixen customs was enough to bring all the assholes forward and give them enough credibility to be even more assholish. It was a damn catch-22 for Fleamont. Smack her down and he came out as a muggle-raised hater, which the last years had broken many reputations, and don't tell her off and watch her sweep other muggle-raised wixes in her trail.

Well, Fleamont, as her father-in-law might not have had a lot of breathing room in how to handle her, but Harry has her son did. Which meant that he got the fun task of ordering her to stop disparaging wixen customs. Fun times in his future.

"Grandmother, if you'll give me your hand." Harry deftly avoided all the current mess and went on with their current purpose.

"Of course, Hardwin."

Touching another's magic was a very intimate matter, usually reserved to couples and possibly to parents and children, though Harry had never touched magic with James—what if James had been infected with Ravenclaw cooties, of course—and Lily would never acknowledge her own magic like that of course.

Something _clicked_ in place, in Harry's magical core and he exhaled slowly, eyes closed.

"My turn then."

He'd almost cringed reflexively when Fleamont had offered his hand, but the previous Lord knew better than to offer his magic when riled up. Connecting with his grandfather was just as weird as connecting with Euphemia, there were no undue feelings making the connection more difficult.

"Dad?"

James glared and caught Harry's hand. The man's magic viciously crested and rushed at Harry like a tidal wave. But Harry expected nothing better. He pushed back with as much strength as he could, forcing James back and crushing his magic back into the man's body, locking him into place with all the might of the Potter's Family Magic.

James gasped, wide-eyed, but didn't open his mouth. After a smack-down of this strength, it would take him a couple of weeks before his personality asserted itself again. The Family Magic was disappointed with him and James' magic must be resonating uncomfortably with the need to placate his Lord.

Harry smiled a tooth-filled grin at his father, then smoothed out his expression and offered his hand to his mother with a gentle smile.

"I—" Lily pushed back in her seat, trying to get away from Harry. "I don't want to. I don't— No, you can't do that."

"Mom. It's nothing, really. Just getting to know your magic, that's it. I'm not leaving anything behind or anything like that."

"You're not? How can you say that, when James looks like he's swallowed a Draught of Living Death!"

Harry shook his head. "That's not me, it's is own Family Magic. I'm not forcing him to do anything."

"I don't want to be under anyone's orders!"

Harry sat pack, sharing a glance with Fleamont and Euphemia. "Mom. Lily. You bound yourself in your family. Of course, you have to answer to the Potter Family Magic."

"I won't! This never happened before."

"Because Fleamont considered you an uneducated loot," Harry explained plainly. She looked like he'd slapped her straight into the face.

"Wh—What?"

"You married my son," Euphemia explained frostily, taking a sip of her tea, "but you've never attempted to get to know your new family. You constantly talk down to us like we are senile idiots, refuse to acknowledge the power of magic and keep trying to makes us more muggle-like. It is James' prerogative to marry you, but I still wished that he'd find someone who respects our culture and customs. This is why neither Fleamont nor I attempted to fully bring you in the Family Magic. With your narrow-mind and determination to find wrongs in our ways, I don't trust you not to destroy us from the inside."

"That—This is—"

"But what Fleamont and Euphemia did, as the Lord and Lady of the House of Potter was one thing. They were well established in the magic of their line and the merest link they got to you through James was enough for them. However, I am new and must learn the Magic of my Family. I cannot _not_ get a feel of your magic, mother. If you stay on the sidelines, my own magic will not accept you as a leech of our Family Magic."

"You say that like I have only two choices, submit to you or leave your Family!"

"Yes," Harry replied plainly. "Though this isn't about _submission_ , it's about learning the feel of your magic in the well of our Family Magic. _Our_ Family Magic, might I remind you too. You are part of us and participate in the currents of our Family Magic."

"I won't!" Lily jumped to her feet, her seat flying back.

None of the others moved, too busy staring at her with their mouths hanging open.

"What?" Harry froze, too surprised to catch her. "Lily, what—do you _know_ what you're saying?"

"I won't be a part of your cult! I'm not a part of _anything_ , I am my own person!"

"That's not... how magic works, Lily," James spoke up finally. He was watching her like he'd never known her. "We are all linked together, through our magic, that's why family is a big thing in the wixen world and why there are so many problems with the muggle-raised coming among us. I thought you'd understood that."

"Understood? What did you want me to understand? That you think that you're god's gift to wixes and that I should shackle me to your family?! I married you! Not your family!"

"You married _in the_ House of Potter. This made you a member of the House of Potter and added you to the well of our Family Magic. You've certainly benefited enough from our magic."

"What nonsense are you talking about! I haven't used any Family Magic, only my own. I'm my own person!"

"You can be your own person but be part of a family too, Lily. Fleamont is right too, you've been using a lot of the Family Magic. Why do you think you could read all those books with the Potter crest, for example. Those are entailed to our line."

Lily rolled her eyes, still standing several steps away from the table. "They're books, everyone can read them."

"No. Only those in the House of Potter can read them."

"You know, you don't even lie well. Or did you think that I'd already forgotten that Remus could read them too?!"

"In the _House_ of Potter," Fleamont repeated slowly like he wasn't sure she would understand his words. "Which means those born as Potter _and_ those brought in the family, be it through marriage or through allegiance to one of us."

"Allegiance? What is he talking about, James?!" She screeched, her hair rising as her magic boiled through her turmoil.

James stared back uncomprehendingly. "We're... the Marauders?"

"What does your little gang as to do with anything?!"

" "Gang". Oh, hell." Harry slouched back in his seat, hiding his face.

James mirrored him in the next seat. "They're not a _gang_ , they're my _vassals_ , dammit Lily."

"You made them your _servants_? What the _hell_ is wrong with you!"

James suddenly threw himself out of his seat, eyes sparkling under the weight of his angry magic. "They're not servants! They're vassals, people who I swore to protect and help with their daily lives and expenses and learning, in exchange for their loyalty and steadfastness!"

"Because you couldn't even trust them to be your friends? You had to shackle them to yourself just to trust them? You monster!"

"I _did it to protect Sirius_!" James roared, his magic booming out of his body and throwing the snow away in a perfect circle. "He begged me to bring him into my House, even though he knew that he'd probably be passed over as Heir for his own, with his loyalty so biased, and I brought Remus into my House because being a werewolf _kills_ him, literally, he has no strength to work and his health is terrible and he'll probably be dead in a couple of decades because being a werewolf is a _curse_ and it _halved his lifespan_. I brought him into my fucking House, Lily, so he could live what he has of his life without having to worry from where tomorrow's food was going to come! And I brought Peter into my House because he's barely a fucking step over a squib and has so few skills or will to learn that he'd have probably ended up selling his arse in a Knockturn Alley inn. That's why I brought my friend into my fucking House, Lily Evans, because a Lord protects his vassals!"

Lily stared a long moment, mouth hanging opened, but Harry could see that she was already refusing this new information, her body growing rigid and her mouth twisting in her sneer aimed at her husband.

"I don't know why I married _you_ ," she spat eventually, taking another couple steps back.

"Because of the doors that would open while you wore my name." James sighed, the fight leaving his body as he looked unbearably sad. "Don't think that I didn't notice how you started having time for me at school after the first time I offered to lend you a book from the Potter library that wasn't available commercially. I thought that I loved you and I was too stupid to see what was in front of me," he whispered bitterly. "I've been wishing that I hadn't married you for _years_ , but I thought that I had made my choice and you shouldn't pay for my mistakes. But obviously, _you_ are a mistake too, not just my ignoring my instincts. So, I James Fleamont Potter declare that our marriage is null and void from no fault of each other and recognize that Lily Evans is free of any link to the House of Potter. So mote it be."

Each of their bodies glowed for a few seconds, a faint link appearing between them, then the link dissolved in the air, dust motes of magic rising and disappearing.

"You are free to go, Lily Evans," Fleamont said before Harry could find the words. He let the man speak in his place, relieved that he didn't have to tell this to his mother. They might not have had the most loving relationship, from the moment it was made clear that Harry enthusiastically espoused the Potter Family Values instead of scoffing at their "backward customs" as Lily did, but she was still his mother. "The house-elves will have your possessions ready to go. A sum will be transferred to your Gringotts account to make sure that you are not destitute and give you time to settle your life again."

Lily didn't reply, staring at James with wide eyes. She looked like she couldn't believe that he'd taken this step. James meanwhile had brought his seat around the table and slumped back into it, leaning against his mother's shoulder with his eyes closed.

"You can't throw me out," Lily whispered.

"Can't I?" Fleamont raised an eyebrow. "This is _my_ manor and land, and you are no longer married to my son. As you made it clear to my wife and I that you considered us reliques from an era past and I am no longer bound to the courtesy of being polite to my daughter-in-law, I'll want you off my property within the hour."

"My son—"

"You may visit him anywhere that isn't my property," Fleamont cut in. "I don't believe that James should be forced to endure your presence and as Hardwin hasn't spoken a word in your defense, I conclude that he agrees with me."

"You're his grandfather, of course, he won't dare to contradict you!"

Fleamont rolled his eyes. "And, even though you _still_ won't recognize it, he is _the lord of my house_ and therefore _can_ counter my decision."

"Harry—"

"No. I'm not stupid nor blind, mom." Harry stopped her before she could try to guilt him. "You and dad haven't shared a bed in _years_. You've been basically living your life each to your side. The only thing that breaking this marriage bond is going to change is that you won't have access to the Potter resources anymore, that's it."

"But—"

"No. Go. I'll send word to the Goblin to transfer the money. If you don't remember, there's an inn in Hogsmead or the Leaky Cauldron has rooms available too. You'll be able to stay there until you find your own place to live or find a friend who'll share his or her home." _if you have any friend left, since i'm pretty sure that you dropped them all like a hot potato as soon as you married in the Potter house_ , Harry didn't say.

"I should have listened to my friend," Lily growled, "Severus was right, you're a monster, making people your slaves! And you've twisted your own son's mind!"

"Enough!" Harry ordered, bringing down the might of the manor's wards to put pressure on the intruder. "Severus Snape has asked to become Lucius Malfoy's vassal for Zir's sake! Lucius has paid Snape's mastery expenses in exchange for a Snape's potions skills for his Family and gets a small percent of the potions Snape created in exchange for dealing with the paperwork and disseminating, you stupid bint. And if you think that you can run back to Snape's skirts, you can think twice. Severus Snape is too smart a man to not have realized that you've used him and thrown him away as soon as he wasn't useful anymore! Anyway, Malfoy is oath-bound to protect Snape from gold diggers, as per their contract," Harry rolled his eyes. "You might not have realized because you've spent so much time holed up in the Potter library, but the Potter Family hasn't exactly benefited from your inclusion among us, and that has nothing to do with your status of muggle-raised but everything to do with your vicious mind and the way you take advantage of our men."

Her hair flying around with unspent magic, Lily let out a snarl and tried to take a step forward.

The Potter wards immediately reacted to the threat, especially since Harry had already marked her as unwelcome not a minute ago. Lily Evans found herself grabbed and apparated well straight to the little corner behind the Leaky Cauldron, her possessions into bags at her feet. She snarled again but there wasn't anyone to see her display.

—

In a corner of Diagon Alley, the Daily Prophet was readying a special edition as was custom—magical divorces weren't exactly common—following the automated notice sent by the Potter estate and announcing the breaking of the marriage oath between James Fleamont Potter and Lily Marie Evans. All in all, a surprising occurrence, but then again most wouldn't be too shocked. Pure-blood and muggle-raised marriage rarely truly lasted, most often because of severe differences of opinion. What would make tongue waggle a bit more, was the little comment that Lily Evans was barred from settling down in any Potter land, as she had been cut from the Family Line as well. In case of a true amicable divorce, most of the time the previous in-law would still remain entrenched in the Family Magic. That Lily Evans had been so completely removed from the Potter House would indeed make some people _wonder_.

—


	4. Chapter 4

"Thank you for inviting me, Neville."

Neville shrugged, petting a plant next to his elbow. "I saw the announcement in the Prophet. I thought that you might want to spend some time away from—" he waves a hand vaguely, "memories."

"Yeah. What a mess." Harry sighed, slumping into the comfortable sofa in a corner of Neville's lounge. They were in his wing at Longbottom manor and Harry _was_ thankfully for the reprieve. The mood at the Potter manor kept sliding from smug happiness at seeing the back of that harpy, to sadness at James' obvious gloom.

"How does it feel, to become the Lord of your House?" Neville asked, neatly sidestepping the Evans problem.

"Hell, it's weird. I'm sort of aware of all the members of our House, especially those born from our line. That sounds bad, but I'm almost grateful that half of the Family was wiped by that plague in the 20s. It's hard enough as it is, to decide between keeping tabs on them all the time or trying to ignore their presence. Plus everyone's on edge because James, Remus, and Sirius all said that they think that Lily will try to make things difficult for us and Lucius Malfoy sent me a message for Severus Snape basically saying the same thing. Apparently, when angered Lily Evans is a spiteful, vicious girl. I mean, I'm not too surprised, I've met her sister. Anyway! I'm not talking about her!" Harry stuffed a cookie in his mouth.

"What about you Neville? With all the talk about the Wixengamot I hope that you don't feel left behind."

Neville stared a few seconds, then burst out laughing. "Hell no! I'm really not in a hurry to get all those responsibilities heaped on my shoulders! Wixengamot once a month at minimum, with all the preparation needed before to be ready for the questions and presentations, having half of the Family suddenly needing to talk to you, being constantly hounded about how they need this or that or they disagree with the choice I've made, ..." Neville waved a hand. "Thanks but no thanks. The later I'll take over, the better I'll feel about it."

Harry snorted. "I'm sensing some first-hand experience there. Your dad got a rough ride about it, still?"

Neville sagged back into his armchair. "Yeah. I mean, it feels almost like the previous generation was too hard on the heirs, so they tried not to hound their children about learning our history like they'd been themselves, but... I mean, of our parents' generation, there Sirius Black who did everything he could to be as different from the rest of the Blacks as he could. Both our fathers went to the Ministry to become Aurors and couldn't care two wits about the Lordships or politics. Arthur Weasley agreed to marry Molly Prewett even though _everyone_ knew he'd been potioned but he still went ahead with her plans once cleared, knowing that Septimus would never let the Family Magic mix with a rapist. I'm even shocked that Septimus let them carry the Weasley name. And I think that except for the three oldest, none of Molly's children know why they're being called blood traitors. It's like everyone threw their collective hands in the air and went "I don't want to care about things!" and here we are."

"True, it's weir—" Harry stumbled over his words, frowning. He exchanged a look with Neville, who abruptly sat up. "It's weird, isn't it? How over half of our parents' generation are so disinterested with leading their—our—lives... And most of them being Gryffindors."

"Hell," Neville muttered. "You think that they've been cursed?"

Harry steepled his fingers. "Maybe."

"Lord Gaunt, you think? Cursing Gryffindors sound like a Slytherin thing."

Harry shook his head slowly. "No, I... Gaunt doesn't seem like..."

"I don't know," Neville made a grimace. "That sounds like something a political leader would do. Getting rid of the opposition."

"But that's the problem. Gaunt isn't trying to get rid of wixes, he wants us to stop being lax with the muggles and start focusing on ourselves again, instead of pandering to the muggle-raised. How would cursing a generation of Gryffindors help with getting support to expand wixen territories again?"

"It makes sense if you think that he wanted to make sure that they wouldn't side with Dumbledore."

"But none of the families possibly cursed were known to side with Dumbledore. I mean, Fleamont and Euphemia can't stand the sight of him, Augusta and Dominic think that he's an upstart asshole who shouldn't even be on the Wixengamot because he isn't a Lord, only the Headmaster, and Septimus still hasn't forgiven him at last count for having stopped feeding the children the rape-potion flushing draught, as had been the practice for centuries."

"Right. Then if it's not Gaunt, who? Who would gain anything about a bunch of Gryffindor pure-bloods not going into politics as they used to do?"

Harry froze. "Someone," he said slowly, sounding his words as he let them pass his lips, "who gained something at keeping a bunch of pure-bloods from passing anymore wixen focused laws."

"What are you thinking about?"

"I—No, I don't know. I'm having stupid thoughts, never mind, ignore me."

"Okay," Neville said after a moment of silence. "Speaking of Gaunt, what do you think of his proposal?"

"For the villages?"

"Yes."

"I wish he'd managed to get his Lordship matter resolved a couple of decades earlier, and gotten the village things working then."

"What? What do you mean?"

Harry sighed, absently pushing away a creeping vine for the third time. Neville's apartment was always a bit of a gamble, about which plant would be free to roam that time. "If we'd had more wixen-only villages, growing up would have been a lot more fun. I wanted to fly a lot, you know."

"But," Neville frowned. He pulled the vine in his own lap, gently petting it. "You're a Potter?"

"But we didn't live in the manor. Lily disliked how "ostentatious" it was and James ended up making the holiday cottage our permanent residence. We had muggles on each side, so we couldn't ward the whole property because you know that covering wards tend to make muggles feel uneasy, and Lily didn't want me to visit the manor too often. _Probably so he wouldn't be caught up in Fleamont and Euphemia's "pure-blood nonsense_ _”_ , he thought.

"Oh. I didn't think about that. You were good with your broom at school, I didn't even notice."

"I got James' talent apparently. And I did get to fly a bit, but that was more for special occasions. Which is my point. I'm a wix, having grown up in a wixen family, I shouldn't have had to hide everything all the time and live mostly like a muggle. I constantly had to keep everything slightly magical in a warded trunk, because Lily thought that "it was good for me to meet muggles too, so I'd know how to behave with them", so I never knew when I'd have to welcome a muggle in my room. I mean, I agree that we should all know how to behave around them, if only so we didn't make blunders, but dammit, I wanted to be able to pin up Quidditch posters."

Harry took a ragged breath and stood up, striding to the fire. He leaned against the mantle, staring at the flames.

"Sorry," he murmured eventually. "I'm starting to realize that I buried a lot of resentment about all this shit a long time ago and I hadn't even noticed how bad it was."

"You don't have to apologize." The teapot gurgled somewhere behind and made a clicking sound when Neville put it back on the tray. "Here."

Harry took the offered cup, wrapping his hands around the delicate porcelain. It was warm and the smell of bergamot was always a comfort. "Thanks."

"He's going to give his proposition up for voting, at the next Wixengamot," Neville murmured some time later.

"Yes." Harry nodded.

"You're going to vote for him."

"I think that Dumbledore or one of his cronies had something hanging over Fleamont or Euphemia," Harry whispered. "None of them can't stand him _or_ his muggle-loving politics, but while they never voted for his ideas, they didn't vote against them either."

"And that's why they're already passing on the Lordship," Neville guessed. "My grandparents have been speculating about that _a lot_ recently. Fleamont and Euphemia were still young enough to hold the House for at least another decade. Instead, they barely waited for you to be old enough to take over."

"Yeah. People are going to guess quickly enough. My first Wixengamot and I vote with Dumbledore's opponent? People are going to talk."

"Let them. It's high time that someone unseats that overblown one-time-wonder. I used to roll my eyes when Lucius Malfoy went on about how the education at Hogwarts had deteriorated under Dumbledore's leadership, you know. Then I decided to rub his face in his false information, so I did some research. Turns out that he was right. Since Dumbledore took the seat, the number of classes, of professors, of _electives_ hasn't stopped going down. We've got almost four generations of people who know less than half of the usually available knowledge about the wixen world. It's going to be a catastrophe in a few decades."

Harry stared, his cup hanging forgotten halfway to his mouth.

"Really?!"

"Yes, really. It's a complete mess."

"Well, hell."

—

"What you propose is a violation of muggle rights," Dumbledore retorted almost before Lord Gaunt had finished exposing his project.

Harry squeezed his mouth shut. One did not speak out of turn in the Wixengamot, especially not when it was to swear at a condescending asshole.

Lord Gaunt stared back at Dumbledore.

Both of them stood almost smack in the middle of their own faction. Sometimes, Harry expected them to take a stance and start dueling right there and then. There was absolutely no love lost between the two, especially with how Dumbledore had thrown his weight around to try and keep Tom Riddle from becoming the new Lord Gaunt, Earl of Slytherin. As if any of the Lords and Ladies who have let that asshole Headmaster have his way. The precedent that would have set! But Dumbledore had enough people in his pockets that he did manage to lengthen the whole process to over double the time it should have taken. Harry wasn't sure how Gaunt had managed to keep from cursing Dumbledore silly.

From his seat almost in the middle of the auditorium—in the mostly-neutral section, and how Harry wished to know what Dumbledore had managed to old over the previous Lord and Lady Potter, to keep them _neutral_ —Harry watched the debate with trepidation.

"I propose to reset and reinforce the wards _previously_ set. There is no violation here, as we would merely be updating wards which have fallen almost completely in disrepair. Gringott's expert gives less than a decade to Diagon Alley's wards before they break completely if they aren't renewed. And that's discounting the way the visual ward is already flickering. Muggles have cameras constantly recording much of the planet these days. The Department of Mysteries has confirmed that our wards will keep us hidden even from muggle satellites, but that works only if the wards are _powered_."

Dumbledore pursed his lips. "Resetting wards around villages would amount to driving the muggles away from their homes."

"Homes that they aren't supposed to have! We had a dozen wixes-only villages less than a century ago. What are we left with now? Hogsmeade. We're forcing our people to live among muggles and consequently to hide themselves, all the time. Children shouldn't have to grow up while being constantly reminded to repress their magic and hide it, over and over again. We already see the results of that conditioning. The grades for wand subjects at Hogwarts have been steadily falling. We cannot keep calling Hogwarts the best school anymore, as it has become false. Hogwarts is in the third position among the European schools, and falling behind more every year."

"Rubbish."

"There have been three reports from three different countries and continents, corroborating this. They've been validated by the ICW, you should know them, shouldn't you?"

English pride being what it was, learning that "Hogwarts wasn't the first anymore" provoked a lot of grumbling in the room. The leader of the Wixengamot, Kingston Shacklebolt shot some sparks and forced the attention back to the matter at hand.

"Still, I'm sure that my fellow wixes will agree that we cannot go around and take from the muggles," Dumbledore declared with _another_ condescending look, completely ignoring the demands for explanations about the education at Hogwarts.

 _Show time_ , Harry thought, taking a deep breath.

He tapped his wand against the Potter crest and rose when it lit up.

Standing tall and stiff against the need to fidget as every eye turned his way, Harry gave a thought of thanks as he felt Euphemia's hand gently squeezing his leg out of view, in encouragement.

"As a matter of fact," he started, resisting the urge to wet his lips, "we do have the right and indeed the responsibility to see that our own have spaces to grow freely and safely. I grew up in a mostly muggle village, I know what I'm talking about. I wish that no other child would have to grow hiding their culture and their _toys_ away, "in case a muggle comes by"."

"Mister Potter, I'm sure—"

"It's _Lord_ Potter to you, Headmaster," Harry cut in smoothly but firmly, "and I would hope that an educator like you would know better than to interrupt an orator, especially at the Wixengamot?"

Harry left a moment of silence pass, staring at the headmaster with one eyebrow raised in challenge.

Dumbledore sat back, a pinched expression on his face quickly smoothed out by his political mask.

"What I'm about to tell is not actually a problem or even of the resort of the Wixengamot, but it's relevant to the subject at hand _and_ some of you with families who don't wish or can't live in the family manors might appreciate the information. I am, as you know, the Earl of Carrick. Our main village, Godric's Hollow, became a mixed wixes and muggle village several decades back, before Fleamont and Euphemia even took over the leadership of our House, when some wards fell to disrepair and we missed the signs, as has happened in many other villages. By the time someone in power got around to paying attention, muggles had already set up camp and we were forbidden to push them out of our homes."

"As expected as they were _their_ hom—"

"Albus Dumbledore! The next time you interrupt me, we will meet on a dueling platform!" Harry's voice thundered through the room as the Family Magic suddenly burned through his veins at the disrespect. He glared at the headmaster until the man turned his eyes away.

Some stared, wide-eyed and mouths hanging opened, but Harry also noticed that many of them looked thoroughly vindicated. Which made sense. Not many had the clout to stand up to Dumbledore, and Harry especially couldn't even be blamed for his quick responses, as everyone knew that so close from the leadership transfer, the Family Magic had to be particularly demanding and quick to react.

"And those weren't their "homes"," Harry spat. "They were house belonging to the House of Potter and put to rent through an agency. Needless to say, once the current Lady Potter realized what had happened, the agency lost the management of our housing stock faster than you can say Gringotts."

Forcibly relaxing his muscles, Harry took a second to breathe, then resumed his explanation. "My point," he said, raising his chin, "is that we recently _finally_ managed to get back control of our various muggle-rented homes and apartments. The best European team of expert warders was hired from Bulgaria at the beginning of the month, in order to re-seal our lands from the muggles, post-haste. I am happy to announce that the whole of the Potter lands are once again under wixen control. The wards have been reset and updated with the current best muggle-repelling layer, as well as a new Fidelius version, set to only erase the location of the land from muggle memories while letting all magical being know and find the place as if there was nothing to block them. This new Fidelius is anchored to the main ward stone, thereby ensuring that the spell wouldn't fall even if the current Lord and/or Lady came to die unexpectedly. In a fascinating twist, we have also confirmed that this muggle-repelling Fidelius also works on muggle-created technologies. We estimate that within the next two months, all the pre-existing houses will be freshly upgraded and ready to receive new tenants. We plan to expand the village with at least another time the same number of houses, including small apartment blocks for those with lesser means or smaller families. If any of you or your family, friends, acquaintances wish to rent a place in Godric's Hollow, you main contact the Selwyn agency. I'm afraid that we expect a lot of demand, from the informal surveys we've made, and while we do intend to expand Godric's Hollow significantly, there will still be a limited number of houses. The British Wixen world has now again a second wixen-only town."

A roar of applause thundered as soon as Harry stopped talking, people talking over each other as they cheered and exclaimed, some already calling out reservation for a house. A number of patroni left the auditorium with messages to go find the Selwyn agency post-haste.

Harry swallowed a shaky breath, as he watched the Wixengamot fall into pandemonium. He'd known— _they'd_ known, as this timely intervention had of course been planned with Fleamont and Euphemia—that people would react strongly to this news, but to have the whole of the room rejoice like he'd offered them the key to happiness... It was heartbreaking to know how many of them were feeling hemmed in by the muggles.

People were staring at him even as they talked among themselves, the Wixengamot leader having obviously decided that it was better to let them talk themselves out before they could resume the session, but one particular sensation had the hair rising at Harry's nape.

He risked a glance to the side and ended up staring straight into Lord Gaunt's eyes. Around the man, even in his faction, people were talking excitedly about the new housing opportunities. Gaunt, however, was ignoring the hubbub, instead watching Harry with all the focus of a snake stalking his prey. His gaze, however, did not give Harry a sense of danger. But it _was_ predatory. The man looked about ready to stalk across the room and jerk Harry to his level, in order to thoroughly sensually devour him.

Cheeks burning under the Lord's intense regard and hoping that the man hadn't caught the not-so-pure thoughts Harry hadn't been able to stop when they'd locked gaze, Harry forced himself to look away and sat back down now that his piece had been said.

"Well done, Hardwin," Fleamont murmured in his ear, his voice wobbling in a wholly uncharacteristic way.

—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to add the last chapter that I had available lol 😅

**Author's Note:**

> As I said, I have about 10+k to post as of today (2019-12-02). Whenever I finish posting those parts, I might write more, I might not. 
> 
> That said, thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this idea!


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